


in which fantasies are sweet

by bubbyheart



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Season 2, Smut, Some Plot, Throwback, fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 10:50:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14377095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbyheart/pseuds/bubbyheart
Summary: Throwback to Season 2. Phil has some time to mull over the fight between May and Agent 33 in the comfort of his own bed after the mission. Some creative licence taken with the precise sequence of events.





	in which fantasies are sweet

Phil groaned as he staggered into his room. Everything hurt. It had all started well, hadn't it? What was supposed to be a relatively simple operation to go in and get the painting had somehow turned into a monumentally long day, filled with Talbot-who-wasn't-really-Talbot, May-who-wasn't-really-May, and no painting. On the bright side, it had been filled with dancing, May in a really nice dress, and the hottest girl-on-girl fight Phil had ever seen. And he really wasn't into the whole women fighting women thing. Had never turned him on, never got him hot under the collar. But when it was not one but two Mays.. well, that was a different story.

He loosened his tie, tossing it behind the nearest chair. Bending down to take off his shoes, he couldn't help but remember May's sparkly silver heels. Shiny silver heels, glittering in the bright lights of the ballroom, with an ankle strap that wrapped around her ankle delicately. That ankle that connected to those calves, strong but slender, up to those thighs, one of which had been wrapped around his leg...

Phil wasn't really sure when he started getting hard.

May's thighs. They were amazing. Fantastic. He had run out of adjectives years ago. Those thighs, an expanse of smooth, unblemished skin, exposed by the steep slit that rose all the way up to her hips, the slit giving him a glorious view whenever she moved. And there had been plenty of moving with the dancing. Truth be told, he'd enjoyed that far too much for it to be just a mission. She'd dipped her head and chest back to survey the room and Phil's eyes had nearly bulged out of their sockets at the expanse of soft, bare, kissable skin that had been right in front of her eyes. It wasn't really like there was anything else to focus on, with half her body weight on him, the warmth of her hands burning through his suit, and his hand cradling most of her lower back. Anyway, even what was covered by the dress was pretty darn spectacular. Those sequins! All over the dress! It wasn't that he didn't think May was hot usually, oh boy was she, but this dress was something else.

He hadn't been kidding when he said he really liked that dress. What he never had time to say was how much more he liked that slip that he next saw her in, that Agent 33 had put her in.

By now he'd unbuttoned his shirt and taken it off, belt and pants following quickly. That little lilac slip that May had then been in next. Wow. Just remembering it made him even harder, if that was even possible. That thin, slinky silk that had draped over all the planes and subtle curves of her body. Lace that dipped just enough, just down between those breasts and wrapping around to the back where the material cut in, leaving a small strip of the middle of her back exposed. He'd wanted to run his tongue down the centre of her back, run it along that groove created by her back muscles, wanted to bite the skin and taste her.

By now he'd taken himself into his own hand and was running his fingers up and down his cock. What he wanted to do to her, run his fingers up and down her back, trace the path of all that lace, all that damn lace, lick the nipples hidden beneath the silk, let them harden and pebble beneath his touch. Wanted to run his fingers up her legs, between those strong thighs that could kill a man, yet fell apart when his fingers slowly danced up her inner thighs. "Phil', she'd moan, writhing beneath his touch, the short slip riding further up as his hands made their way upwards towards her core.

It might be even better if she'd been bound up in a chair the way Bakshi had. He hated Bakshi for touching her, for threatening her, but he fucking loved the sight of her bound up. Arms behind the chair, tied together firmly, her body in that slip, she'd been so fiercely wild and untamed, so much fight and passion coursing through every muscle of her body. He could have done so much more with her in the chair. Running his fingers up her thighs, moving them up to hold her waist, he'd move behind her so she couldn't see, kissing and nipping at her neck, licking that place behind her ear. He'd lick downwards towards her breasts. She'd pretend to fight him, but he knows it would just be a show.

Licking down her chest, listening to her stop breathing in an attempt to swallow her gasps, until the gasps came out any way in a whimper as he suddenly spun around, straddling her on the chair. His fingers would move up towards her core, pushing aside her underwear - black lace, that had been her own, Agent 33 hadn't bothered to change it - brushing one finger along her folds. Her body never lied to him, she was dripping wet, despite her refusal to look at him. He brushed the same finger up towards her clit, giving it a quick flick. He'd grin at the the quick intake of her breath. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushed a finger into her. She was so wet that there was no resistance at all. And then he just left the finger there, not moving. His weight on her meant that even as she tried to squirm to get him deeper into her, to get more friction, to get more _something_ , but she couldn't. Not with him sitting there with a smirk on his face, waiting. 

His breaths were faster, his hand grasping his cock, moving rhythmically. 

He'd sat there, waiting it out. May was tough. He'd made it even harder by moving his hands just a centimeter or two in and out, in and out, in and out. Oh so slowly. Oh so achingly slowly. Just enough so that she could feel something, but no where near enough for her to feel anything. And May, who was usually so strong, who could kill men without blinking an eye before breakfast, she was entirely at his mercy. Her eyes were glazed over, her breath coming in short bursts. There was so much and so little at the same time. "Beg, Mel, beg. Beg me for more." She bit her lower lip. Looked anywhere but him. She'd bitten so hard that her entire lower lip was bloodless. Fine then. He continued the oh so slow movements in and out of her pussy, by now making all sorts of the most delicious sounds as his finger made its way in and out. Another finger made its way to her clit. The smallest, lightest touches on her clit. Feather-light touches, just rubbing just enough for her to keen with pleasure, but not enough for her to come. 

He'd wait it out. 

In and out. In and out. Flick. Rub. Flick. Rub. The finger going in and out her went all the way out, then circled around the outside of her pussy lips. 

That new sensation and the loss of anything inside her made her decide. "Fine. Phil, you win. You win. Fuck me. Fuck me, now, I need to come."

He'd take out his cock, slide it slowly around the folds, now absolutely dripping, running his head up and down through the folds, bumping against her clit with every brush. Slowly teasing the head inside her, no more than an inch inside, moving it around in a circle, moving it in and out. 

"FUCK ME, PHIL. STOP TEASING." 

She actually looked pissed. Only Mel could look this pissed while actually enjoying something. But that's what made her her. 

Fine. Fine then. In a fit of strength he didn't even know he had, he broke apart the chair, leaving her arms still tied behind her but her pussy free. Sliding his hard length inside of her, he thrusted deep and slow. Deeper and slower than he'd like. Just to hear her whine.

By now he was iron hard, his hands moving in time with his imaginary thrusts into her. Imagining his hands touching all that silk, touching the velvet of her skin, the warmth of her pussy, his cock now moving faster, and faster. Her arms still bound behind, she couldn't do anything to get more leverage. Could only let him take the lead. It was that thought, that idea of Mel losing control and letting him have it, that made him lose it. He'd now built up to a blistering pace of deep, firm thrusts, accompanied by the soft whines and moans of a woman nearly on the verge of coming. He reached down and rubbed her clit in time with his thrusts... 

"FUCK YES, PHIL, FUCK, I'M COMING." 

And she came, her tight hot pussy squeezing his cock.  "Fuck, Mel, fuck, you're so hot, fuck." And he came too. 

With a quick shudder, he was coming everywhere, his cum shooting everywhere on the bed. Phil scrambled around, leaning over to the nightstand by his bed, reaching for a box of tissues. He knew it was a fantasy, but it had been so real. So real. He could almost feel her warmth, smell that smell that was just her, he wanted to kiss every inch of her skin, he wanted to take away all her pain, he wanted to be her everything. 

He didn't often do this, really tried not to, Boy Scout's honour, but sometimes it was too difficult. Like when you had to dance with the woman you love and then see her fighting her doppelganger in a tiniest of slips. 

Maybe if he just closed his eyes, he could imagine that she was next to him. Her lazy smile, post-orgasm, pressed against his neck. Her warm body curled up against his, her slow steady breathing. He closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to come to him.


End file.
